The Heat of the Sunrise
by minachandler
Summary: While the sun rises in Nanda Parbat, Oliver and Felicity enjoy some post-coital conversation. Things get quickly out of hand - in the best way possible, of course. Smutty Olicity, set speculatively during 3x20 (so please be aware of spoilers).


Nanda Parbat was hot.

The night had been cool, so it had taken her a while to really feel it, but she could see it was now light outside the bathroom window. Clad only in her underwear and Oliver's shirt, she could feel herself sweating as she padded back into Oliver's room. Her feet were bare (she hadn't bothered trying to find her shoes; she only vaguely remembered kicking them off at some point much earlier that night) and she could feel the heat radiating from the carpet on her toes.

When she had gotten up to use the bathroom, Oliver's head had been resting on her shoulder and he had seemed drowsy, so it surprised her when she came back in to see him on his feet. He was half-dressed (she felt a little bad for stealing his shirt now) and his back was to her as he stood at the window, which he had pushed open. He had pulled the curtain back a little, too, so the whole room was filled with a warm red glow, and his tall frame was a dark silhouette against the orange and scarlet of the sky outside.

With her glasses still off, her vision had become accustomed to the softened outline of his body, at least from a distance. But it was only when she stepped closer that he properly came into focus, the blurred edges of her vision sharpening. Close up, she could see the tautness of his back muscles, the intricate tattoo on one shoulder blade, the criss-cross of scars and unfamiliar Chinese characters a map on his lower back.

"Hey," she said softly, moving to stand beside him, and he immediately turned towards her, a smile forming on his lips.

"Hey," he murmured back, dropping a kiss on her forehead, and she leaned against his bare chest, following his gaze out of the window.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"I wanted to watch the sunrise."

"It's beautiful," Felicity said.

"It is," Oliver agreed, and his eyes met hers. They were blazing blue, and he was standing in such a way that the light that poured from the gap in the curtains filtered past his lashes and highlighted the greenish flecks in his irises. "So are you."

Before she could stop herself, she laughed, looking down at her attire. "Even in this shirt?" It was too big for her, stopping halfway down her thigh, and she'd had to roll up the sleeves at her elbows because they were too long. Half the buttons were missing, something that Oliver clearly only just registered. "Got to say, I don't think they ever had this problem in the movies."

He reached out, the smile still on his lips, touching one of the empty buttonholes that was level with her abdomen. "When did that happen?"

"That, er, was probably my bad," she admitted. "I can't exactly remember when, but I guess I just wanted to get it off you as soon as I could. Which, to be honest, is strange, because it's not like I don't see you shirtless on a regular basis anyway, so –"

But at that moment, Oliver silenced her with a kiss, and once she had gotten over the surprise of his lips on hers, she found herself tiptoeing to return it. He lifted her off her feet, his hands on either side of her waist easily supporting her as she kissed him back. His lips were soft, pliant, and she could feel him smile against her mouth when she wrapped her legs around his hips for better access.

"I guess now you know how to stop me babbling," she said breathlessly, leaning her forehead against his.

"I don't ever want you to stop babbling," he told her, and though he was smiling, she could tell he was being serious. With one hand, and still with a firm grip on Felicity, Oliver reached up and shut the curtain. "Probably wouldn't be a good idea to give the League a display, either."

When he mentioned the League, however, Felicity feared the moment was broken. Her time with Oliver had been wonderful, specifically because they had chosen to ignore the chaos around them. And indeed, she did feel his bare shoulders deflate a little beneath her. "Probably not," she said.

He kissed her, then, and she was grateful for the distraction, of his lips, his tongue, the stubble she could feel on her cheeks.

"Felicity," he said against her lips, "hold on to me tight."

She couldn't stop herself from smiling at the memory his words elicited, and it was evident from the look in his eyes that he was remembering, too. With what seemed like no effort whatsoever, Oliver made his way to the bed, walking backwards and all the while still kissing her. When they reached the bed, they broke apart just long enough to shuffle onto the pillows and for Felicity to settle more comfortably on top of him.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, just as he reached up to kiss a spot just below her neck. Their eyes met, and automatically he smiled.

"A lot of things," he said. His forehead was creased in thought, and after a moment's hesitation, he asked, "Do you remember… our date?"

"Yes," she said, surprised.

"Before… the explosion," Oliver said, and he seemed to sense her immediate discomfort at his words, because his hand was suddenly on her cheek, his thumb rubbing in comforting motions against her skin, "I… was telling you about my time on the island."

"About being in Hong Kong." She nodded, and then she found herself brightening a little. "You told me a lot of things that day. Made me realise you have scary good memory."

He closed his eyes, letting her kiss him softly on his lips. "Felicity…" he said, and even now, whenever he said her name – _especially_ when he said it slowly, as if savouring every syllable – it sounded like a whispered prayer, "I told you about the first time I met you, but what I didn't get a chance to tell you about was the first time I saw you."

"What do you mean?"

"When I was in Hong Kong, I… was working for Argus."

Felicity was not altogether surprised. "I figured that was how you knew Waller – you must have worked for her at some point."

"It was only very grudgingly," he added, "but we ended up tracking someone in Hong Kong and following her to Starling."

"You went back to Starling?" she said, and she couldn't hide her shock. "How come your family didn't know you were alive?"

"Amanda wouldn't let me tell them. She threatened to kill them if I said anything."

"I always thought she was evil." She said this more to herself than to Oliver, but he smiled nevertheless. "But what does this have to do with me?"

"We had to break into Queen Consolidated for some intel. I went up, and I was downloading the data when…" He paused, tucking her hair behind her ear. "… when you walked in. I hid, and I think you were just putting something on the desk, but then you started saying something. At first, I thought you were talking on the phone, but it was obvious it was just you in the room."

"What did I say?" Felicity was trying to think of what he could be talking about, but there had been so many times that she had been sent on an errand to put things on people's desks, especially at the beginning of her time at QC.

"Something along the lines of 'You're cute' –"

"– 'and it's too bad you're dead'?" she finished, and immediately, the memory came back to her. She had only just started at Queen Consolidated and could remember feeling a mixture of homesickness and relief at being away from her mother, who had been mollycoddling her after Cooper's suicide. She remembered seeing that photo of Oliver Queen, the billionaire playboy who was presumed dead at sea. "I remember. I was – there was a photo, of you, and I guess I was talking to that. As crazy as that sounds. And you're saying you were there?"

"I was practically in the same room," he said, and then his expression became more serious. "I came back to Starling City and all I could see was the mess I had caused, for my family, for my friends. I was home, but I didn't feel like I was. My family were literally minutes away from me and I couldn't tell them, or anyone else, that I was alive. I always felt like the nightmare of being on the island, in Hong Kong, wherever – would end once I came home, but it only got worse."

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

Oliver shook his head. "But when you walked into that office, you weren't… a Mirakuru soldier, or part of the Hong Kong military, or an Argus agent. You were just – just someone that made me smile, really smile, for the first time in what felt like forever."

She couldn't think of anything to say. To think, before they had even known each other, Oliver and Felicity had been in the same room and she had had no idea. She found herself reaching out until she had a hold of Oliver's wrist, and she could feel the gentle throb of his pulse as her fingers pressed against his veins. Their fingers laced, and she watched as he closed his eyes and pressed a kiss on her knuckles.

"You asked me once," he said, "if I had any happy stories. From when I was away. That, I guess, is one of them."

"I'm glad," she said just before his lips were on hers. When she looked into his eyes, though, she could see a fire in them that she was sure mirrored her own, and when their lips met again in a searing kiss, it was with a hunger and urgency that both of them shared. His grip tightened on her waist as he manoeuvred them both so he was now on top, but when he lowered his mouth to hers, his touch was surprisingly gentle.

"I love you," she said suddenly, and even though she had said it to him earlier, she could still feel the novelty of those three words on her tongue. He smiled, then, his lips moving down to the hollow of her throat, and he mouthed the words back to her, into the sensitive skin of her collarbone. She could feel his fingers brush against her midriff, unbuttoning the few buttons that were left on his shirt, and Felicity was glad she had neglected to put her bra back on.

Her nipples hardened at his touch, and as he dragged his thumb back and forth over her breast, she let out a moan. It was louder than she anticipated, but Oliver didn't seem to care. His hands had moved down, caressing the soft flesh of her waist, and he was kissing his way down, between her breasts, to her abdomen and then to her hip. Every time his stubble grazed a new inch of her skin, the fire that had filled her bones burned anew, and the aching need for him between her legs increased tenfold.

But he seemed to be taking his time, and when she could feel his mouth on the skin at the very top of her thigh, she thought she was going to come right there. He looked up, met her eyes, and she could have sworn there was a slight smirk on his face, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. He returned to kissing that ridiculously sensitive skin, and then she could feel the scrape of his teeth again. She realised seconds later that he was dragging her underwear off her with his mouth, not stopping until his head was level with her ankle.

If it were anyone else trying this move on Felicity, something would have gone wrong – her panties getting stuck around her feet, for example. But this was_Oliver_, and he expertly pulled them off one foot and started kissing her ankle, while at the same time disentangling her underwear from her other foot. Felicity lay back, gripping the sheets she was lying on and jolting at the frisson of pleasure that ran up her spine from the rasp of stubble she could feel on her calf.

"Oliver, I think you might be trying to kill me here," she managed to get out, and again he looked up, one eyebrow quirked up in a way that was almost cheeky, and she knew if they were in any other position it would be out of character for him. He straightened and leaned over, and she reached forward and met him halfway for a kiss. At the same time, though, she felt his hand move downwards, past her thigh and quivering around her entrance. She whimpered – there was no other word for it – and as he dipped his head to below her navel, she found herself threading her fingers through his hair.

Two fingers were in her centre, now, and somehow he knew all the right places to touch. His fingertips were deft, slow, eliciting another moan from Felicity. Nothing could have prepared her, though, for when his tongue replaced where his fingers were mere moments before, and after what felt like seconds later (though she later reflected that it must have been longer), she came, arching her back, sure her nails had pierced his scalp. But he wasn't complaining as he came up to lie beside her, burying his face into her neck.

"What happened to you being out of practice?" she said teasingly, once she had gotten her breath back.

"Apparently, archers are supposed to be good with their fingers," he said, whispering the words on her skin, and she blushed at this, remembering those exact words coming out of her mouth by accident a few months before.

She lifted his face to hers and kissed him, and she could taste herself on his lips. Her fingers slipped down to the waistband of his jeans, running the back of her other hand between his legs. She could feel an obvious hardness there, as she tried to tug them down along with his underwear. He helped, undoing the buttons of his jeans, and Felicity pulled them down, her mouth covering his in a clumsy kiss that landed inelegantly on his lower lip. Her teeth nipped his lip, and his groan echoed deep in her throat as he tossed aside the last of his clothing. She let him take off his shirt, which she only just realised she was still wearing, and there was a slight scuffle when one of the sleeves got stuck at her wrist.

Thankfully, Oliver succeeded in tugging it off, and the shirt landed on the floor with the rest of their garments, forgotten. He lowered himself onto her, and at her deep sigh of satisfaction, he kissed down the side of her neck. One of her hands was on his back, fingers splaying on the slightly raised edges of his newest scars, and she managed to extricate her other hand and grab hold of his. She wiggled her hips a little, and Oliver let out a feral groan, which made Felicity's smile grow wider; so used to seeing him in control, rational, it gratified her to see him let go a bit – especially when it was because of her.

"I love you," he said again, but this time, he was looking her in the eyes, his gaze darting to their locked fingers, then to her lips, and then back to her eyes again. She smiled, and after they both came, he kissed her, open-mouthed and clumsier than usual, tasting of sweat and liquid fire. And slowly, they fell asleep together, Felicity's bare leg wrapping around Oliver's waist.

Truth be told, she didn't know what was to come in the next few days. But for right now, she was content, in the arms of the man she loved. And whatever he would have to face, she was determined that he would not face it alone.


End file.
